


Fallout and Revelations

by Thaliel (Alodia)



Series: A Prince or Princess to Bring the Light [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Porn With Plot, Smut, Speculation, Spoilers, boatsex2k17, short fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-19 07:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11892702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alodia/pseuds/Thaliel
Summary: "Her hair streaming behind her in its braids still, she turned and gazed blankly at the wall, desperately wishing for her mind to shut down and to be calm. She needed to be calm. She needed to find some kind of way to deal with what had happened, and she needed to sleep. She had been awake now for almost 48 hours, and it was her turn to sleep deeply.When she awoke again, she nearly jumped out of her skin.Jon Snow was sitting at her bedside."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> LESS THAN A WEEK UNTIL #LOVEBOAT2017  
> This is my contribution to my new favorite thing. It's been a wild last couple of weeks friends, and thank goodness it's paying off. This fic is not a direct sequel to the previous one in this series, but it is another speculation fic meant to take place directly after an episode. So if you're into those kinds of things, you are in luck. I also just think I like writing them falling for one another in as may different ways as possible.  
>  __  
> "Rock the Boat  
>  Don't Rock the Boat Baby.  
> Rock the Boat  
> Don't tip the boat over!  
> Rock the boat!"

Daenerys had left him to heal, and it took every bit of strength she had left to keep it together until she was outside of the room. The ship rocked gently beneath her, and as soon as she had closed the door behind her, she leaned against it and dipped her head, staring at the floor. She breathed deeply, her eyes stinging as she kept her emotions in check.

Every time she blinked, she kept seeing it happen over and over again. The death of her child playing on repeat in her mind. Dany had to make it stop, somehow.

She lifted her head, and locked eyes with Tyrion, who was politely looking on.

"Care for a handkerchief?" He extended his hand, a white cloth in his fingers.

Standing tall, she took the cloth from him. "Thank you."

He inclined his head. "How is the patient?"

"Awake," she said, "Barely alive, it seems, but awake."

Daenerys dabbed at the corners of her eyes, and Tyrion eyed her carefully, his eyes narrowing and his hands clasping behind his back.

“How are _you_?”

Daenerys snorted, “I have been better, but I am trying to think of the times I have been worse.” She gave him back his handkerchief, “I don’t think I can think of a time. All that I have seen and done. All that has been done to me, and I can’t think of anything worse than this.”

They stood there in silence, the crashing waves of the sea echoing through the hull. It was dark below the main deck, but she found comfort in it. The soft glow of torches could barely keep back the darkness, and she felt like it was the perfect accompaniment for her emotions.

“He called me Dany,” she said, out of the blue, focusing on something else. Anything else. Especially Jon.

His brows went up, “Dany?”

She hummed. “I don’t remember the last person who did that. I think it was my brother.”

He frowned, but his eyes were twinkling. “Did you not like it?”

Daenerys ignored the question, deciding she did not want to discuss it with Tyrion after all. He looked… To eager. Too excited. She wanted to talk to Missandei. “There is a room for me on this ship?”

Tyrion smiled then, and bowed. “Right this way, Your Grace.”

He led her down the hall, and opened the door for her to the Captain’s Quarters.

“We’ll sail as fast as we can to Dragonstone,” he informed her, “Drogon and Rhaegal are further out at sea, but they will follow us, no doubt.”

She nodded. Now that she was standing in the Captain’s Quarters, she could hear them both, screeching their loss into the night sky. The reminder made her throat grow tight and thick.

“Good night, Your Grace,” Tyrion said, bowing out and leaving her alone.

No one else had sailed north to greet her and Jon’s Party. Missandei and Varys had stayed back to watch Dragonstone. It was her, Tyrion, and Jon’s party, alone at sea with a skeleton crew to man the ship.

The tears sprung immediately to her eyes, and Daenerys slumped to the ground, her hand covering her nose and mouth, and terrible ugly sobs wrecking her. She cried ugly tears for her lost child, lamenting Viserion’s loss with every fiber in her being. He was a beautiful creature, one of the last of his kind, and now he was gone, lost north of The Wall in a fool hearted expedition she had insisted on taking.

She had to go to them, to save them, but she wished desperately it had gone the way she had planned.

She had no idea the walkers were real. Or that they would be so prepared for her and her dragons. They had fought them before, they _had_ to have. They were too prepared, too exact, and too practiced to not have fought them.

So how could they defeat them, when already she and her dragons had failed?

Westeros was lost. Would be lost. The White Walkers would take it, and nothing would matter anymore. All of her work would go to waste.

She clawed her way to her bead, trying to breathe deeply, and mostly failing. She tore off what clothing she could, getting as comfortable as possible before she stuffed her face into the pillows of the large bed, and stayed there.

The sobs kept coming, and Daenerys’s chest ached. She remembered every other loss she had suffered in the name of coming back to Westeros, and of all of the people loyal to her, who she had taken with her to a land now doomed to winter and death. She remembered Rhaego and Drogo, and she felt the dull ache which would forever live alongside of their memory.

She breathed in deeply through her nose, and then out through her mouth, taking control of her pain again, and letting the tears turn silent.

Her hair streaming behind her in their braids still, she turned and gazed blankly at the wall, desperately wishing for her mind to shut down and to be calm. She needed to be calm. She needed to find some kind of way to deal with what had happened, and she needed to sleep. She had been awake now for almost 48 hours, and it was her turn to sleep deeply.

She laid like that, watching as the light in the cabin steadily grew lighter and her eyes grew sore and heavy. Eventually, when the sun had begun to light the cabin in earnest, she drifted away.

When she awoke again, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Jon Snow was sitting at her bedside, wearing a loose cream linen shirt, black pants, and a large black fur cloak around his shoulders. He was sitting in a wooden chair, bare feet flat on the ground, and he was watching her carefully with his hands in his lap.

“Not-Dany,” he said, “You are awake?”

She cautiously sat up, concealing her shock, “I suppose I am now.”

She ached all over from her deep sleep, and she wanted to sleep for at least a couple more hours.

He nodded, watching carefully as she moved. “You were asleep for almost 2 days. Tyrion and Jorah were beginning to worry.”

She hummed, ignoring their worry. She was too focused on the man right in front of her. “We are nearly back at Dragonstone then?”

“Aye. We would be, but we’ve been taking it slow, letting the dragons scout ahead of us. We don’t want another run in with Euron. We have another day or two before we will land.”

Daenerys sighed, she did not like it, but she also supposed she had no choice. Decisions had been made for her while she was asleep, likely by Tyrion.  

Jon’s eyes flicked down, and then back up. His cheeks turned pink, “Are you ok?”

Daenerys glanced down, and realized she looked a mess. She could feel her eyes were still puffy from crying, her skin was mottled pink across her chest from her emotions, and her black shift was wrinkly from having slept in it.

Dany then sat up further, her back going straight and her face going bland and stoic. She smoothed out the skirt of her shift, and grabbed the first throw from the bed she could, throwing it across her lap and she settled in with her back against the head board. She had just slept for two days, and judging by the light outside the windows it was at least 8 PM, but she felt like she had no excuse for looking so ill put together.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, “It’s just been a long week.”

Jon nodded, “It has.”

“Are you ok?” She asked, taking the subject off of herself. “You nearly froze to death.”

He pulled his chair closer to the side of her bed, settling in deeper and sighing, “You saw them.”

She glanced down at his chest, and then up again, “I did.”

“Then you know I have been through worse. It wasn’t fun, but I will live.”

Nodding, she glanced down at her hands in her lap, clasping them together. “They have not healed yet?”

Jon extended one of his hands, and placed it over both of hers, “No. They haven’t.”

Dany’s hands froze, and she glanced up at him. “How are you alive?”

Jon talked as if nothing was amiss, but as he did his hand slipped into hers, and his thumb ran across her palm. “Davos tells me that a red witch brought me back to life. Apparently.”

“You were dead?”

Jon nodded. “For a time. Some claim the Lord of Light has plans for me.”

“Do you believe that?”

He shrugged. “I have more immediate concerns than any divine plans.”  

“You really took a knife in the heart for your people.” She mused, wonder clear in her voice.

Jon looked out the window, “Technically, yes.”

Dany squeezed his hand, “That is extremely noble of you.”

Jon snorted, “I am not a noble.”

“You’re more noble than any noble I have met,” she said honestly.

“You know shitty nobles,” he told her, glancing back.

Dany smiled, laughing, “I can’t argue with that.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Jon’s thumb moving rhythmically over her palm. Daenerys every couple of moments would squeeze back, and it weaved a small kind of comfort between them.

 Whatever this was, it was new for them both. But it felt rooted somehow, like whatever it was between them was deeper than what they had had in the past. More grounded and sturdier. Already it felt like they had been through a lot together, and they both knew there was more hardship on the horizon.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Jon started, his eyes lifting from their hands to burn into hers, “But are you sure you’re ok? I could…” He trailed off, and glanced at the door, “Tyrion is the only other person who slept down here that night. Everyone else was keeping watch.”

She sucked in a breath, and looked the opposite way. She hated not making eye contact with the person she was speaking with, but she needed a moment in this case.

 _He had heard her._ HE had heard her crying her eyes out and letting her soul scream into the void. That was the final topping on her misery. He was the last person she would want to hear her in a weak moment. She wanted him to think she was strong and capable. He had pledged her his loyalty, and his people, the people he had _died_ for. She needed to be wroth that trust, earn his loyalty.

“I…” She sucked in another deep breath. “I will be fine.”

He squeezed her hand, “Dany—”

She shot him a look.

“Sorry, _Not Dany_ , are you… I mean, those were your children.”

Her eyes began to sting and she looked up at the ceiling.

“Shit.” He stood, sitting next to her on the bed. “I didn’t mean, I mean, I don’t want—”

Dany waved a hand in front of her face, “It’s all right.”

He placed a hand on the side of her cheek, very very slowly, his palm warm against her skin, and turned her head to face him. His fingers were gentle where they touched her, and he looked into her eyes, concern clear on his face.

She gazed up into his eyes, and did so unguarded. She let him see her pain, more of the pain than he had seen when he had first woken up on the ship. Jon leaned forward, putting his forehead against hers.

“I am _so_ sorry,” he whispered.

Breathing heavy, she closed her eyes and managed to reply hoarsely, “It’s all right.”

His hand moved from her cheek to her shoulder. “It should never have happened.”

She nodded, his thumb now grazing over the skin at her collar bone.

They stayed like that, breathing deeply and letting the emotions in the room bore into them as they both tried to find the words they were searching for. His hands moved over her shoulder softly, and their foreheads stayed bowed.

“I—” Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. “I will survive. I always have, and I will continue to do so. Now we know. Now _I_ know. We will be more prepared.”

Jon nodded.

“We will forge more dragon glass weapons than they have ever seen.”

Jon nodded again, his eyes so close to hers, he could see the flames in their depths.

“We will prevail.” She declared, her voice strong and sharp.

That was the Daenerys he knew.

Jon smiled. “We will prevail.”

Then he leaned in and kissed her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Jonerys Smut Day! And Happy Day Before Boat Sex Day! <3 Thank you guys as always for your comments and support! There will be one more chapter after this one, I do believe.

The waves and her heartbeat crashed in her ears, making everything seem dreamy and floating and far different from how it had been just a moment ago. Her throat no longer felt tight, instead she felt as if she might float, or relax back into the bed and melt away.

He pulled back, and seemed to turn a little pink, “Ah. Right.”

Daenerys frowned, confused, “Right?”

He smiled, then seemed to lean in a little closer, “Right?”

Daenerys nodded, whispering, “Right.”

Their lips met again, more deliberately this time. Daenerys slid closer to Jon, one hand lifting to rest on the side of his neck.

It was sweet and slow, for a moment. They both savored the light touchs, the places where her hand met his shoulder. His arm wrapping around her waist, soft lips moving against one another. Fire and ice meeting and mixing and forming a great swelling sea of emotions.

It was more than Dany had anticipated feeling, but it was welcome none the less.

Then they were amidst the roaring sea, the rocking beneath the ship felt much greater, and the torches and candles in the room burned that much brighter. None of their hurts were felt, and it was easy to press together, to wrap their arms around each other and to slide their hands over each other’s bodies.

Jon’s hands slid along her waist, over the silky black shift, and then up her sides, ghosting over her breasts before sliding in and settling at her neck. He pulled her closer, cradling her as his tongue teased her lips open.

Daenerys groaned into the cabin, only slightly worried someone might hear them. Tyrion would keep people away. He was a smart man. One of his hands drifted back down to her breast, teasing the nipple and playing with it through the silky fabric.

She seized her opportunity to slide her own hands under Jon’s shirt, tilting her head to give him a deeper kiss while she ran her hands over his abs and pectorals. It had been some time since she had her hands on a man, but Jon was worth the wait.

He was strong, very clearly strong. The strength of his person and of his mind was easily read in his skin and in the way he treated his body. He was smart and practical. She could feel the places where he had been stabbed, and she pulled away, looking up at him.

“Are you alright? Do these hurt?” She asked, gently placing her palm over his heart, the wound there the deepest and the most raised.  He had nearly died in the north, and with his previous injuries, she could hardly believe that he was there in front of her.

Jon shifted, laying back on the bed and pulling her over him, settling her on his chest and capturing her hand over his heart, keeping it there.

“Only when I aggravate them or move too much, or do anything _too_ physically demanding.”

Daenerys stared at him, and Jon smiled slowly.

She frowned, “Are you just saying that?”

He chuckled, “Yes, but also it is true. When fighting, they hurt terribly, but for now, it’s fine. They get better every day.”

Her eyes drifted over his chest, and one hand slowly lifted the shirt he was wearing, loosening the ties at the throat and exposing his entire chest. He leaned up to allow her to pull it off, and settled his hands on either side of her hips as her fingers drifted slowly over the wounds.

Her face was troubled, “ _Why_ did they stab you?”

Jon shrugged, “Things in the Watch are hard. Some men deal with it well, others do not.”

 That was clearly not the whole story, but Daenerys did not want to ruin the mood, so instead she let her fingers drift away from the wounds, and over his sides and his lower abdomen. Jon heaved a large breath and let his eyes drift closed.

Daenerys smiled and shifted, drawing her legs up so she was straddling his waist. He cracked an eye open to watch her shift, but then closed them again and relaxed as she once again explored his chest. Gentle fingers moved over his soft chest hair, and over the trail of hair leading down into his pants.

Dany bit her lip, and ever so slowly let one finger dip under his waistband.

Jon groaned, and his fingers tensed at her hips. He had yet to move his hands from there, letting her take her time and guide them where she wanted them to be.

She shifted her hips, grinding down into him, and then she leaned, grazing her lips first over his heart, taking care around the stab wound there, and then drifted them over his collarbone.

“Dany,” he breathed.

She hummed, “Not Dany.”

“Right, _Not-Dany._ ”

Daenerys laughed, “What is it Jon?”

“Can we really...” He trailed off, “Be together?”

She smiled, “You are a king?”

Jon nodded, his breath hitching as her tongue darted out to lick one of his nipples.

“And I am a queen,” she continued, kissing down his torso, “We can do whatever we want.”

His chest rumbled with silent laughter. “If you say so.”

She planted a firm kiss to his navel, “I do.”

Jon lifted a hand a stroked her cheek, and then drifted it through the ends of her hair.

Dany smiled into his lower abdomen, pausing when she reached his waistband. Jon's head pressed into the bed and he sighed her name.

Daenerys slipped her hands under his waistband, and then pulled them down his hips slowly. Jon was already very aroused, his cock springing from the cloth when she got them far enough down. She stopped a moment and took him in.

Jon cheeks were flushed, and a thin sheen of sweat was covering his body. His cock was long and thick, more than hefty in her hands and she stroked him lightly. Everything about him said _King_ to Dany, but looks alone did not make a king. He was also kind, and dedicated, far more dedicated than anyone else had ever been to his people. It was the single thing about him which she enjoyed the most.

She could not have built a better man if she had tried, she would have never required a partner to literally die for his people, but here Jon was, and that about him was perfect too.

She slid a hand over him, taking in the smooth skin, and the hard tension of his body focused into one place. He was heavy in her hand, and when she stroked over him, he took in a deep breath.

“Dany,” he groaned again.

She ignored him and stroked again, this time slowly licking up his length and then taking the tip in her mouth, savoring the smooth texture on her tongue as she licked the underside of his cock.

His hips almost shot off of the bed, and his hand wound its way into her hair, working between the braids but exerting no pressure. Daenerys hummed, and licked again, sucking a little further down this time.

“Fuck,” he muttered, “Dany.”

She popped off, looking up at him.

He sighed, “I need something other than _Not-Dany_ to call you.”

“You don’t use nicknames?” She asked, looking up. “No, _Darling_ or _Sweetheart?_ ”

He smiled dreamily, “ _Darling?_ ”

Daenerys shrugged. “If you like.”

His hands tensed and then untensed in her hair, “Darling, please. Keep going.”

Dany happily obliged, “As you wish.”

She licked again into the sweet spot, just under his head. His hips moved again, but he kept more of a hold on himself this time. She sucked on the tip, and then bobbed her head, taking him into her mouth and swirling her tongue over his head.

The moan he let out made her all the more excited. Dany could herself getting warmer in her core, her cheeks heating as she continued to touch Jon.

She stayed there for a while, moving over him slowly, dragging her tongue up and down his length and moving her hands over the base of his cock.

Jon’s hips moved with her, and when it got to be too much, he tapped her head gently.

Dany glanced up, and climbed back up his body. Jon’s hands framed her face and he pulled her in for a long kiss, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. His hands made their way around her waist again, drifting over her ass, and then further down, pulling up on her shift and exposing her thighs.

He hitched her legs up around his waist, running his rough fingertips over the backs of her things before pulling up, carrying her shift with him as he went. He revealed her all in one sweep, and he was struck with a moment of awe briefly before Dany leaned down and kissed him, grinding herself down into him.

Warm skin moved under his hands as they ground together, and Dany grew warmer and wetter. Soon, she was gasping into his neck, biting the column as Jon’s hands moved with her hips, pulling her down harder onto him. Every inch her hips moved felt like a mile of sensation.

“Jon, please,” she said, panting into the crook of his neck.

“Ah,” he groaned, “Are you sure? I mean—“

She put a hand over his mouth, and leaned up, stopping the movement of her hips. “I am sure, please, I need you inside of me.”

Jon’s eyes grew wide, and then went half lidded.

“Alright, darling.”

Jon leaned up, and then rolled over, moving her under him and positioning himself at her opening.

Like a wave cresting, he slid into her like it was the most natural thing. His cock sliding home and hitting deep inside of her. Daenerys saw stars and wolves and Jon and fire behind he eyes, and the roaring of the waves was loud again in her ears.

“Jon,” she groaned, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Jon.”

He huffed, holding still for a moment, “Darling, please.”

She relaxed her hands, “Sorry.”

He smiled wickedly. “I mean, don’t say my name like that.”

She tilted her head, “Don’t say your name?”

Chuckling, he leaned down and kissed her fiercely. “You make this difficult on me.”

Her face split in a huge grin, “Would you have me stop?”

One of his hands worked their way under his neck, and he lifted her head to kiss her hard before moving again, and pressing their foreheads together. Her mouth dropped open, and her head fell back, her back arching. He was _almost_ too much. But as he moved and as she met his movements, everything made sense and the world was hyper focused.

She was soft and tight and almost too hot around him, and Dany’s arms were keeping him close as he moved within her. It was almost too perfect, glittering and shimmering as they both moved together and the boat rocked beneath them.

He drove them both to the edge, and when the winding wire in Dany snapped, her back arched off of the bed, forcing her closer to him and pressing their chests together. Jon held her close, and kept driving inside of her, and a few strokes later he followed her over the edge.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you as always for the kudos and comments! I always love hearing what y'all have to say. :) More to come soon!


End file.
